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Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Unknown Author

One day, a poor boy who was selling goods from door to door to pay his way through school, found he had only one thin dime left, and he was hungry.

He decided he would ask for a meal at the next house. However, he lost his nerve when a lovely young woman opened the door.

Instead of a meal he asked for a glass of water! She thought he looked hungry so brought him a large glass of milk. He drank it so slowly, and then asked, "how much do I owe you?"

"You don't owe me anything," she replied. "Mother has taught us never to accept payment for showing kindness."

He said ... "Then I thank you from my heart."

As Howard Kelly left that house, he not only felt stronger physically, but his faith in God and man grew stronger. He had been ready to give up and quit, but not now.

Many years later that same young woman became critically ill. The local doctors were baffled. They finally sent her to the big city, where they called in specialists to study her rare disease.

Dr. Howard Kelly was called in for the consultation. When he heard the name of the town she came from, a strange light filled his eyes.

Immediately he rose from his chair and went down the hall of the hospital to her room.

Dressed in his doctor's gown he went in to see her. He recognized her at once.

He went back to the consultation room determined to do his best to save her life. From that day he gave special attention to her case.

After a long struggle, the battle was won and the lady fully cured.

Dr. Kelly requested the business office to pass the final bill to him for approval. He looked at it, then wrote something on the edge, and the bill was sent to her room. She feared to open it, for she was sure it would take the rest of her life to pay for it all. Finally she looked, and something caught her attention on the side of the bill. She read these words ...

Saturday, December 26, 2009

Joseph was his name. We got to know that after two days when a diary was found in his wooden cycle box we had to open to find his belongings. He lay unconscious but stable in Doon Hospital's general ward, on a drip. We saw him first lying in a lane, almost next to my home in Dehradun and were afraid to touch him. He looked almost a dead man, hardly breathing. Flies were clustering on his nostril which perhaps made him to move his hand a little, that too with great effort. I came rushing to Amma and told her that someone was lying there unconscious and that the people in the bazaar were either watching him or carrying on with their usual business. She asked us to take him to the hospital immediately and we did with the help of my school friends. We were already involved in local social activism and the help was not too difficult to organize. We had to wash him and change his clothes as he was having a severe diarrhea and was stinking as his pants were all soaked. Doctors knew us for our Sunday services to the destitute in the general ward and they readily admitted the poor man. He was too frail, merely bones hanging on a skeleton. He was obviously riding a bicycle and had a removable wooden box fixed with the rear stand of the cycle, painted with hand brush in blue with a small tinplate hanging at the front handle announcing "All India cycle tour for world peace". His cycle was kept in my house and the man was taken to the hospital in a three-wheeler autorickshaw.

We got naturally interested in him, as roamers we were, more interested in out-of-school activities than in studies. And prayed fervently for his recovery. He has to live and continue his yatra. Second day, while trying to locate his address to inform his relatives, we opened his box and an old, worn-out diary with a blue plastic cover gave us his name: Joseph. He had a number of pages scribbled in his handwriting we supposed, but there was nothing that would give us any idea about his family or address. The various strange types of balls, silken scarves, wooden eggs, were also found and through a paper sheet we came to know "oh my god, he was a magician!"

A small printed card, stapled in a transparent plastic sheet announced – International Magician Joseph from Panjim, Goa. I could still feel the thrill and the curiosity making waves in my heart. We couldn't sleep that night. We all wanted to see him speaking to us and of course teaching us some magic. It would be great fun. He had to live for us.

It was on the morning of the third day morning when he opened his eyes. His cheekbones were almost visible with some skin unwillingly enveloping it. He eyes were dreary and he gave a blank look and shut his eyes immediately. "He is too weak. Will take another three-four days to regain some strength," Dr Nautiyal assured us. Thanks, we said. The doctor and God had helped us. Already winter vacations were beginning from the next day, that was December 20 and in three more days we shall be able to learn some magic; we couldn't have waited long.

He had a family, as he would tell us while sipping tomato soup Amma had prepared. But destiny had been cruel to him. He had lost his young son, and his wife too had died a year later. He was a professional magician and that was the source of his livelihood. Dejected and finding nothing that would hold him back in a one-room house, he began his shows to entertain children and make them giggle with joy with his magical tricks. Seeing children laugh and clap with cries of surprises made him yearn to live and he saw the face of his son in every child. He wept. Tears flowed from his eyes, when he described his story to us. He looked too noble, like a saint, a father figure. We were moved but found no words to console him except to keep on saying, "Koi baat nahin, sab theek ho jayega (Don't worry everything will be all right)."

We all fell in love with him. He had a strange charm and warmth that I can still feel. When he came home it was a celebration. We had a special Christmas tree made for him, it was looking really beautiful, our first one indeed. Had laddoos and mithai like we did on Diwali and he would go on talking and talking till we fell hungry or asleep. His magic tricks were charming, simple and enjoyable. We tried our hands, changing scarves, hiding eggs in sleeves, playing card ricks, but the magic remained with him and we had just the fun. The Christmas was just there and we all felt excited going to a local church with him. Will she let us in? I asked? And he heartily laughed, "Why not, it's for you, my dear son." But ask your Amma, if I convert you in the church, will she allow us to enter the house? I asked what that meant. With a twinkle in his eyes, he said: "I will ask Jesus, you are my second son, and that's it. Converting to be my son, dear?" I did not know how to reply but said, "OK, let's go." We, four of us — he, I and two of my friends — went to a local church near Doon Hospital. It a small Church we might have seen a hundred times but never felt that we should also visit it and see what was inside. Inside, at the altar was an old image of Jesus and benches in the hall, as we had seen in some movies. We prayed with folded hands, eyes shut and I felt I am in a temple before Rama's image. He introduced me to the pastor and he was too nice and gentle; he spoke some sweet words and we returned.

So you are converted? he said on our way back. Was that all? Yes, now you are like my son, Vijay, I asked Jesus and he approved. He was serious. I felt good, and replied: "Thanks, Uncle. I am really happy today." It was like visiting a temple. Yes, he said, when I am in your home I feel like a Hindu who visits Mangesh Dev, so I am converted too. And he hugged me tightly.

My mother was amused when she heard about it and said: "If it makes him happy, nothing wrong. All gods lead to one path. He is an elder to us all. That was what Vivekananda had said, I replied. I was a regular visitor to the local Ramakrishna Ashram and our family had been very close to Swami Ranganathanandaji, who was in Secundrabad those days and would stay with my brother whenever he went on a US tour. He had come to Dehradun especially for us to address a students' convention. He had told us that Vivekananda began celebrating Christmas — officially in all Ramakrishna Missions, a tradition being observed till today. My father and RSS workers had a smile listening to all this later. They were all deeply impressed with the simplicity and affectionate behavior of Joseph and helped him organize some shows, collected a little money before he left for Saharanpur on way to Ambala, Kashmir being his final destination.He kept us posted about his new experiences, sweet and sour, and a year later, he wrote a beautiful letter describing his entire journey, from his home in Panaji. Soon I moved to Mumbai, in search of a job and lost touch with him. It was only a couple of years later that I came to know from my friends in Goa that one fine morning he was found in deep sleep, never to wake up again.

Every Christmas, we remember him with deep love, adore Jesus that he had Joseph in his heart and of course with a regret too for having lost touch with him in his last days. But it also reminds us about the futility and meaninglessness of boundaries we create around us.

These days the gubernatorial postings have become too controversial and a matter of hot debates, often getting disgusted comments. Here is a note, that I found while browsing the literature of Dr. Syama Prasad Mookerjee regarding how the selection for such high jobs is done in a faulty manner, often driven by considerations other than the real merit. I am sending it, for your reading pleasure. This para is taken from Dr. Mookerjee’s illustrious book ‘Awake Hindusthan’ first published in 1944 and republished by Dr. Syama Prasad Mookerjee Research Foundation (foreword by Shri Mohan Ji Bhagwat, Sarsanghchalak, RSS).

With regards

Tarun Vijay

Selection of governors

It is common knowledge that a Governor of an Indian province is selected not always, on the ground of merit or breadth of outlook but very often for personal considerations and political patronage. Thus a man who by reason of his administrative and personal qualities may not even be competent to become a head clerk in Clive Street or who by reason of his capacity for carrying on intrigues and setting one against the other may at best adorn a modest chair in Elysium Row finds himself raised to the giddy height of Governorship of an Indian province. Shielded as he is from public criticism, forgetful of his own obvious limitations, he is encouraged to do acts behind the scene which render him positively dangerous to the peace and tranquility of the province under his charge.

Monday, December 21, 2009

I am not Khan. My name bears a different set of four letters: K A U L. Kaul. As those who know Indian names would understand I happened to be born in a family which was called Hindu by others. Hence, we were sure, we would never get a friend like KJ to make a movie on our humiliations, and the contemptuous and forced exile from our homeland. It's not fashionable. It's fashionable to get a Khan as a friend and portray his agony and pains and sufferings when he is asked by a US private to take off his shoes and show his socks. Natural and quite justifiable that Khan must feel insulted and enraged. Enough Masala to make a movie.

But unfortunately I am a Kaul. I am not a Khan.

Hence when my sisters and mothers were raped and killed, when six-year-old Seema was witness to the brutal slaughtering of her brother, mother and father with a butcher's knife by a Khan, nobody ever came to make a movie on my agony, pain and anguish, and tears.

No KJ would make a movie on Kashmiri Hindus. Because we are not Khans. We are Kauls.

When we look at our own selves as Kauls, we also see a macabre dance of leaders who people Parliament. Some of them were really concerned about us. They got the bungalows and acres of greenery and had their portraits were worshipped by the gullible devotees of patriotism.

They made reservations in schools and colleges for us. In many many other states. But never did they try that we go back to our homes. They have other priorities and 'love your jihadi neighborhood' programmes. They get flabbier and flabbier with the passing of each year, sit on sacks of sermons; issue instructions to live simply and follow moral principles delivered by ancestors and kept in documents treated with time-tested preservatives.

They could play with me because my name is Kaul. And not Mr Khan. I saw the trailer to this fabulous movie, which must do good business at the box office.

There was not even a hint that terror is bad and it is worse if it is perpetuated in the name of a religion that means Peace. Peace be upon all its followers and all other the creatures too.

So you make a movie on the humiliation of taking off shoes to a foreign police force which has decided not to allow another 9/11.

The humiliation of taking off the shoes and the urge to show that you are innocent is really too deep. But what about the humiliation of leaving your home and hearth and the world and the relatives and wife and mother and father? And being forced to live in shabby tents, at the mercy of nincompoop leaders encashing your misery and bribe-seeking babus? And seeing your daughters growing up too sudden and finding no place to hide your shame?

No KJ would ever come forward to make a movie, a telling, spine-chilling narration on the celluloid, of five-year-old Seema, who saw her parents and brother being slaughtered by a butcher's knife in Doda. Because her dad was not Mr Khan. He was one Mr Kaul.

Sorry, Mr Kaul and your entire ilk. I can't help you.

It's not fashionable to side with those who are Kauls. And Rainas. And Bhatts. Dismissively called KPs. KPs means Kashmiri Pandits. They are a bunch of communalists. They were the agents of one Mr Jagmohan who planned their exodus so that Khans can be blamed falsely. In fact, a movie can be made on how these KPs conspired their own exile to give a bad name to the loving and affectionate Khan brothers of the valley.

To voice the woes of Kauls is sinful. The right course to get counted in the lists of the Prime Minister's banquets and the President's parties is to announce from the roof top: hey, men and ladies, I am Mr Khan.

The biggest apartheid the state observes is to exclude those who cry for Kauls, wear the colours of Ayodhya, love the wisdom of the civilisational heritage, dare to assert as Hindus in a land which is known as Hindustan too and struggle to live with dignity as Kauls. They are out and exiled. You can see any list of honours and invites to summits and late-evening gala parties to toast a new brand. All that the Kauls are allowed is a space at Jantar Mantar: shout, weep and go back to your tents after a tiring demonstration. Mr Kaul, you have got a wrong name.

A dozen KJs would fly to take you atop the glory - posts and gardens of sympathies if you accept to wear a Khan name and love a Sunita, Pranita, Komal or a Kamini. Well, here you have a sweetheart in Mandira. That goes well with the story.

And you pegged the movie plot on autism.

I wept. It was too much. I wept as a father of a son who needed a story as an Indian. Who cares for his autistic son, his relationship with the western world, his love affair with a young sweet something as a human, as someone whose heart goes beyond being a Hindu, a Muslim or a proselytizing Vatican-centric aggressive soul. Not the one who would declare in newspaper interviews: "I think I am an ambassador for Islam". Shah Rukh is Shah Rukh, not because he is an ambassador for Islam. If that was true, he could have found a room in Deoband. Fine enough. But he became a heartthrob and a famousl star because he is a great actor. He owes everything he has to Indians and not just to Muslims. We love him not because he is some Mr Khan. We love him because he has portrayed the dreams, aspirations, pains, anguish and ups and downs of our daily life. As an Indian. As one of us.

If he wants to use our goodwill and love for strengthening his image as an ambassador for Islam, will we have to think to put up an ambassador for Hindus? That, at least to me, would be unacceptable because I trust everyone: a Khan or a Kaul or a Singh or a Victor. Who represents India represents us all too, including Hindus. My best ambassadorship would be an ambassadorship for the tricolour and not for anything else because I see my Ram and Dharma in that. I don't think even an Amitabh or a Hritik would ever think in terms Shah Rukh has chosen for himself. But shouldn't these big, tall, successful Indians who wear Hindu names make a movie on why Kauls were ousted? Why Godhra occurred in the first place? Why nobody, yes, not a single Muslim, comes forward to take up the cause of the exiled and killed and contemptuously marginalized Kauls whereas every Muslim complainant would have essentially a Hindu advocate to take on Hindus as fiercely as he can?

If you are Mr Khan and found dead on the railway tracks, the entire nation would be shaken. And he was also a Rizwan. May be just a coincidence that our Mr Khan in the movie is also a Rizwan.

Rizwan's death saw the police commissioner punished and cover stories written by missionary writers. But if you are a Sharma or a Kaul and happened to love an Ameena Yusuf in Srinagar, you would soon find your corpse inside the police thana and NONE, not even a small-time local paper would find it worthwhile to waste a column on you. No police constable would be asked to explain how a wrongly detained person was found dead in police custody?

Because the lover found dead inside a police thana was not Mr Khan. No KJ would ever come forward to make a movie on 'My name is Kaul. And I am terror-struck by Khans'.

Give me back my identity as an Indian, Mr. Khan and I would have no problem even wearing your name and appreciating the tender love of an autistic son.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Thailand witnessed a unique empowerment ceremony between 9th December till 29th December 2009 at a historic Avalokiteshwar Temple of 10, 000 Buddhas situated near Bangkok. It was attended by 21 thousand Buddhist monks led by the chief visionary Lady Monk of the temple Most Venerable Master Shi Kuang Seng. The Royal Princess of Thailand HRH Prof. Dr. ChulabhornWalailak also attended as a chief guest on 9th December 2009 and honoured various scholars. These pics and the movie clip is from the same ceremony . The grand temple has an amazing statue of Sahastrabahu Uma Devi (Durga) with a thousand hands and also of Lord Shiva, Ganesh, Lakshmi and Krishna thus presenting a wonderful glimpse of Hindu-Buddhist commanalities.

If You Cross The North Korean Border Illegally You Get 12 Years Hard Labour.

If You Cross The Iranian Border Illegally You Are Detained Indefinitely.

If You Cross The Afghan Border Illegally, You Get Shot.

If You Cross The Saudi Arabian Border Illegally You Will Be Jailed.

If You Cross The Chinese Border Illegally You May Never Be Heard From Again.

If You Cross The Venezuelan Border Illegally You Will Be Branded A Spy And Your Fate Will Be Sealed.

If You Cross The Cuban Border Illegally You Will Be Thrown Into Political Prison To Rot.

If You Enter Britain Illegally You Will Arrested, Prosecuted And Send To Prison And Deported

If You Are A Muslim And Illegally Cross The Indian Border You Get-A Ration Card,-Voter Identity card,-Passport (1 or more)-Haj Subsidy, -Job,-A Driver's License, -Job Reservation,-Special Privileges, -Credit Cards,-Subsidized Rent Or A Loan To Buy A House,-Free Education,-Free Health Care,-A Lobbyist In New Delhi

And Voting Rights!! – You are a full citizen of the Republic of India , and perhaps can join Politics too.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Copenhagen pundits rushing from poor countries are the same as who once adorned the Mughal durbar. Never thinking or doing what they actually need to, but following what they are told. The mad rush of articles and a craze to be seen and counted with the western sahibs with very serious and very gloomy faces is just hilarious.

True, we have got to save our planet and rivers and water and mountains and the good earth. But today India needs much more than that to save humans from dying on footpaths. Reducing carbon emissions is fine. But should it be reduced before we reduce the levels of corruption, illiteracy and terrorism?

We may allocate a thousand crore rupees after Copenhagen for addressing issues handed over to us by those who have been actually responsible for the climatic mess we find ourselves in. Still, all that would go down the drain if we keep on living with high corruption levels, widespread rural and urban illiteracy and unimaginable poverty amid islands of stinking wealthy sections who organize seminars on Kyoto protocol.

India needs immediately to address the highly inflammable issues of terror, improve the public health system and spread literacy on a war footing. Everything else will work better afterwards. If we try to copy blindly a highly literate and prosperous west and set our priorities accordingly, we shall be doomed. Look at the messy preparations for the Commonwealth Games, the billions wasted on the Ganga cleansing project, Yamuna turned into a nullah and the agricultural scene presenting suicidal tendencies with Maoists cashing in on the resultant unrest. What have we done seriously on these issues that suddenly a Copenhagen jamboree took overwhelming everything else?

The problems created by the gora-lands can't be our burden like Kipling's Ramu. Time is ripe for the Asian power centres to lead the west rather that offering to be led by their misplaced priorities.

Just have a bird's eye view of what they have 'gifted' us so far. Massacred aborigines in the Americas, New Zealand, Australia etc, and then created endowments to study their 'rich' culture, put the original owners into reservations and asked the rest of the world to come and see them as tourist attractions.

They wanted the whole world look, worship and behave like them, the way they would understand and appreciate and hence began the wars first, second, the atom bombs and Hiroshima and Vietnams. Then they began a movement to stop nuclear proliferation, compel us to sign the CTBT, which they won't do themselves. Start peace missions and grab all the Nobel peace decorations rejecting Gandhi purely on racist basis.

They send armies to foreign lands to kill people, including children (reported as accident), create an atmosphere where large populations are devoid of progress and food unless they accept their hegemony and then ask us to clean up the dirt in Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq making friends with Beijing, giving it the 'responsibility' to get Kashmir crisis resolved. Wow! Isn't it a wonderful mechanism of neo-world order of the old colonialist mind?

They destroyed the largest hectares of rain forest, built huge monstrous dams, angered nature and now ask us to come to Copenhagen forgetting our national priorities and sign on papers they have prepared.

Good that we have a Jairam. One can only hope he will do what India needs and not what the western conceptualisers of new anxieties dish out for us.

In our part of the world more people die and will continue to die, unless immediate action is taken, of hunger, poverty, terrorism, unavailable or bad healthcare, political and administrative corruption.

We get sick of these daily doses of high levels of carbonized inactions and see nauseatingly a group of disconnected mediapersons and politicians eating out of the hands of Copenhagen's starlets. They must focus on environmental issues more seriously and in a committed way. That alone is going to bring about the change, nothing else.

The tricks they crack on us are not new. Remember the Y2K scare just before the new millennium began? All the machines would crash, time zones would mismatch, stock exchanges would collapse and all that blah-blah. It was fun to awake in the first morning of 2000 without anything bad happening. Not that pollution or drying up rivers and changing climate is a false scare like that. But this is just an example of the western attempt to confuse and misguide the rest of the world setting our agenda.

In fact, we just don't need a Copenhagen to make us work for addressing our issues. We are responsible for polluting Dal lake, making most of the water bodies in districts disappear, seeing Gangotri glacier receding and shackling Ganga in a most horrendous way -- with unbelievable thoughtless action to produce more hot money than generating power for the poor. It all happens because of a callous administration unawakened masses, huge socio-political divide that thrives on corruption. Climate change is not an isolated issue to be resolved through rich men's papers. It's our own creation and hence needs a domestic cleanup first. The money we have to spend on security because of the two nuclear-powered hostile countries around and to tackle insurgencies and terrorism, supported by the enemies looking down our necks is too enormous and has to be saved through an invincible defence and a ruthless mechanism to end internal insecurity. What's our response on this front? Can any leader or even a middle-level bureaucrat think of going to a government hospital in times of an emergency? If not what right these dummies have to talk of an issue that a common Indian will take years to understand? Why can't we prioritize issues that make his life better and address the other issues in a different way, the way our domestic needs guide?

Fifty-six newspapers in 45 countries taking the unprecedented step of speaking in one voice through a common editorial was a good idea. But for those whose stomachs were full and had access to read a news sheet. What about those who were far away from these 'luxuries' and have to face the brunt of the climatic change more than anyone else? Who loses land, finds polluted rivers unusable for agriculture, unavailable schools and wells filled with industrial waste? Not those who write special edits and have access to mineral water bottles? Should they decide what the majority needs?

India is destined to emerge powerful with collective efforts of various streams all working to preserve the diversity and civilisational values. Hence the real war is between the the exclusivists who represent the 'only' factor and those inclusivists who represent , like Hindus, 'also'. Said Shri Dattatreya Hosbale, sah-sarkaryavah, RSS at the book launch of Shri Tarun Vijay titled-Bharat -Niyati aur Sangharsh(India-the destiny and the struggle) on 1st December at Triveni auditorium, New Delhi.

The programme was amazingly interactive with various different ideological voices all sharing the dais including famous TV personality and journalist Rahul Dev, renowned author Narendra Kohli, Dewan of the Hazrat Nizamuddin Aulia Dargah Syed Tahir Nizami, famous Kashmiri writer Chandrakanta, noted academician and activist Vikram Datta and Org Secy Deendayal Research Institute Abhay Mahajan.Shri Atul Garg, publsher of the book(Remadhav) said that they felt highly elated to have the book published by them as it is a great commentary on the contemporary struggle of the Hindu society for its rightful place in the world.Shri Narendra Kohli desribed the book as a seminal contribution to understand the angst and pains of a patriotic people who find marginalised due to a false secular dispensation. He said the book has shown a way to emerge a winner in this historic struggle between the Indians, rooted in Bharat and the de-Indianised sections.

Shri Rahul Dev, said the book contains issues with which its not possible to disagree and he has found it immensely readable and equally thought provoking one. Still any pai After a n or hurt must go beyond the boundaries of Hindus alone syndrome. he said its a sign of weakness to raise slogans like 'Garva Se Kaho Hum Hindu hain'. Academician Vikram Datt said that we are all Indians here and the book wonderfully portrays the sufferings and dreams of an Indian society with a remarkable brilliance and historical references.Novelist Chandrakanta questioned that what kind of secularism is this which refuses to take into account the woes and humiliations of an entire Kashmiri Hindu community? She said that Tarun Vijay has courageously portrayed the hurt and resistance of Hindus in this book and she has found it a very invigorating presentation.

Syed Tahir Nizami spoke about the Sufi traditions of the country and said that the love and affection that Sufis received in India was unparalleled. He said that they are different from eh fundamentalist Mullahs and Maulvis and preach devotion to the god beyond the boundaries of religious fault lines.

Shri Abhay Mahajan gave details of the constructive work being done under the guidance of a great icon of Indian resurgence Shri Nana ji Deshmukh and invited all to visit Chitrakoot.

Shri Datta ji Hosbale congratulated the author for prducing a book which is a result of an intense scholarship. He quoted various references from the book and said that the Columbus effect on America and the Kambu influence on Kamboj (Cambodia) must be compared to understand the Hindu civilisational core and the semitic influence on the other parts of the world. thats the war we are witnessing today, those who would like to savagely convert the other people into their faith and those who spread the message of compassion and friendliness like Hindus. When such inclusivist people, who say others also have a rigth to grow according to their own philosophies and fragrances are assaulted and brutalized, then only to raise the voices of the victims a lslogan like Garva Se Kahoo Hum Hindu hain becomes relevant and necessary. Its not a slogan of the weak or defeated but a voice of the resistance of the brave and peace loving people. He said RSS stands for the preservation of diversity and peace for the entire mankind with a mind and heart firmly rooted in the civilisation that was called Hindu by the aliens though we always described us as Vedic or Sanatanis. that gives enough space to different voices.

Tarun Vijay described his book as an expresion of angst of the Hindus against injustices and barbaric assaults and reiteration of the confidence in Bhata's param Vaibhavam